Hattie
by the green fluff
Summary: I didn't do it. I didn't do it. The sheriff did." Another Holes one-shot: Hattie Parker's POV on the KateSam affair. (If you don't remember who Hattie is, she appeared in the books only once, when she witnessed Katherine Barlow and Sam kissing, and said s


**disclaimer ...**Not mine.  
**a/n ...**Another piece from school, uploaded for the sake of receiving critique. Unlike my Kate ficlet, I don't think this one is cliché - I just think it's melodramatic, and a little more difficult to follow but nonetheless I'm much more fond of this one. It's edited slightly because I couldn't bear the last diary entry. Honestly. It's so melodramatic > ...but hopefully I'm the only one who hates it?  
Anyway - Hattie's point of view about the whole Kate/Sam affair plus Sam's death. One-shot, of course.

* * *

_Hattie sits all alone._

_She gets up, sweeps the floor. She goes to the general store, buys some food. She cooks dinner, sits patiently down in the old squashy armchair, waiting for her husband to come home._

_Hattie sits all alone._

_Hattie _is_ all alone._

Dear Diary,

Nothing much happened today, you know. Today's a normal day, normal meaning that I sit here at home, doing nothing, while my husband Steve is out working, actually a useful member of the household, unlike me.

I'm a jaded old crone now, I know. I used to be young, but no one remembers. When I was a child, I used to write _Dear Diary_ and scribble thoughts into a little notebook when I got lonely or jealous or sad (often) and now even though I still write _Dear Diary_, and I'm lonely, jealous and sad (all the time), I know just as well as anyone that I'm never going to be a child again.

Oh, I know I look like an ugly, petty housewife. The saddest thing is that I am.

**x**

"_Hello, Mrs. Parker," Miss Katherine says warmly, smiling._

_Hattie forces a smile. "Oh. Hello."_

_"How are you today?" enquires Miss Katherine, the unfailing soul of courtesy._

_"Oh, I'm fine," even though she's not. "And you?"_

_Miss Katherine smiles. "I'm good, thank you for asking, Mrs. Parker. I hope you enjoyed my spiced peaches yesterday." Yesterday was the Fourth of July._

_Hattie almost cringes. "Yes, your spiced peaches were simply divine. You know, Miss Katherine, before you came to the town, I used to make spiced peaches…" Hattie hopes her voice isn't shaking, doesn't add how jealous she is, doesn't say how she wishes that Katherine never came to Green Lake, never ruined her life._

_"Really?" Miss Katherine seems genuinely interested. "Out of simple curiosity, Mrs. Parker, why don't you make them anymore? For the Fourth of July town picnic, I mean? Because I'm sure they were brilliant - "_

_"Oh, Miss Katherine! Everybody in Green Lake knows that your spiced peaches are absolutely the best. I couldn't possibly hope to compete," Hattie says graciously, and she knows it's true._

_"Oh, I'm not that good, I'm sure your peaches are wonderful," says the pretty schoolteacher modestly, "but thank you. I'm sorry, it is lovely to chat with you, but I must go prepare my next class now. Have a pleasant day, Mrs. Parker…"_

_And as Miss Katherine leaves, Hattie can't help but glare at her shiny, neat blonde hair, and snarl at the thought of her sweet personality._

_Hattie looks at her own hair (which is matted and greying), thinks about her bitter life (full of self-pity and waiting for her husband), and tries very hard not to shed angry, envious tears._

Dear Diary,

It's terrible. I talked to Miss Katherine today, exchanged pleasantries; Miss Katherine, she's the schoolteacher. I hate her.

Oh, it's not that Katherine Barlow is stupid or rude or annoying. She is none of those things. The thing about her that bothers me is that she's so _perfect_ – perfect like I used to be. I used to be like her, just like her – sweet, and calm, and pleasant-talking. And _modest_.

I told her I used to make spiced peaches, like her. And I won the prize for it, every year, like she does now. But ever since Miss Katherine Barlow came, five years ago, I lost my unofficial position as town beauty, and she took my place. Not only was Katherine Barlow well-read, she was younger than me, made better spiced peaches, and never offended anybody. Jealous? I'm not jealous. Because _she ruined my life_. She made my life _misery_. Utter misery.

And the worst thing? It's irrational to hate her. Everyone will think I'm jealous. Everyone would hate me if they knew I hated her. Everyone already hates me.

But I manage to hate her anyway, _as passionately as I hate myself_.

**x**

_Hattie thanks the cashier and leaves the general store._

_As she walks out, and begins to open her flowery pink umbrella, she freezes suddenly, just standing there gaping in the rain._

_Though she can't see so clearly through the rain, she distinctly sees a blonde lady and a Negro, obviously Miss Katherine and Sam the onion picker, outside the schoolhouse. They're kissing. _Kissing

_Those two might as well have the word "LOVE" flashing above them, glowing damply red through the rain. It's that plain. Hattie is so angry that the umbrella is forgotten and she is soaked to the skin with the icy rain, but she doesn't care._

_She glowers fiercely at the two, who are so immersed in their own world they don't notice. "God will punish you!" she whispers menacingly._

_As Hattie walks home in the pouring rain, she thinks briefly that nobody ever kissed her the way the Negro onion picker kissed the pretty schoolteacher._

_The rain batters against her skin, Hattie's heart beats viciously, but she manages to convince herself that the wetness piercing her eyes is rain._

Dear Diary,

It's a scandal!

I saw that Negro onion picker, Sam, kiss Miss Katherine! Miss Katherine, who is _oh-so-educated_, should know as well as I that all Negros have monstrously disgusting diseases! After all, that was what the town sheriff said, and why would the sheriff lie to the people of Green Lake?

But this is so unexpected! Everybody in the town expected Katherine Barlow to marry Charles Walker! After all, he is ever so rich, and quite…odious. Perfect for her, I think. She _deserves_ him, that dirty Negro-kisser.

On that note, I told Charles Walker all about Miss Katherine and Sam. He's planning to destroy the schoolhouse tomorrow! Excellent! Hopefully, she'll be burnt along with the books. It serves her right, I think.

Oh, it'll be very satisfying. They shall hang the onion picker tomorrow, and I do think it will break beautiful young Katherine's naïve little heart.

Miss Katherine's popularity will die down, and then _I_ will be the best maker of spiced peaches, just like the way it was ten years ago, before Miss Katherine came to live at Green Lake.

**x**

_Hattie joins the crowd by the lake, watching the motorized boat that belongs to Trout Walker's family pursuing Sam's relatively slow rowing boat._

_Katherine and Sam's boat are going at a steady speed, but of course the Walker boat is gaining on them, spewing out dark charcoal-coloured smoke over the glimmering green lake. The Walker boat crashes into Sam's._

_A gunshot, and Sam is dead, fallen into the water. Miss Katherine screams, but surprisingly, Hattie doesn't feel any satisfaction in this. There is a chilling agony in that scream, like everything will never be okay again. And that _is_ the case in Katherine Barlow's world._

_The sheriff shot the onion picker's donkey, too._

_When a screaming, arguing Katherine Barlow is rescued against her will and dragged to the shore by Trout Walker, Hattie glances at Katherine._

_Katherine's tearstained blue eyes meet Hattie's. "I love Sam so much that it doesn't just _hurt_," she whispers to Hattie. There is so much in Katherine's gaze, a deep painful longing and a darkness that is terrible in one so young._

_Hattie tries to think _Serves her right_ but her heart sinks with a force as great as Miss Katherine's grief._

Dear Diary,

They killed Sam, they broke Katherine's heart. Just as I expected, you know.

But somehow, it wasn't as satisfying as I had anticipated. It's just…empty. Like Katherine…somehow I'm sad that I hurt her like this. If I hadn't spread the story of their kiss all through the town…they'd still be alive…

…this is terrible…I wasn't the one who shot Sam, but I was the one who killed him…it's my fault, it's my fault…Steve, my husband, looks at me oddly and asks me if I'm okay, and why am I not happy about that dirty Negro being killed finally?…but even though I feel guilty, dizzy and a little nauseous - no, I didn't kill Sam - I didn't do it - don't get me - I didn't do it - don't kill me, Katherine - I didn't do it - Sam - _I didn't do it_ -

I didn't do it. I didn't do it. I didn't do it.

The sheriff did.

**x**

_Hattie looks at her husband. "Steve, did you hear about Katherine Barlow and the onion picker?"_

_"Oh, of course," Steve says._

_Hattie is silent._

_He knows that Hattie was the one who told Trout Walker about Katherine and Sam's kiss. But he says carefully, "Miss Katherine should have seen this coming. Everything falls in the end, Hattie. Everything good fades away in the end, everything falls…Nothing lasts forever."_

_Hattie looks at him. "I know," she says, very very quietly, too quiet for Steve to hear._

_The next day, Miss Katherine shoots the sheriff._

_The next day, Hattie Paker shoots herself._


End file.
